


A Soft Song

by Magi_Silverwolf



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alas Friday has No Arms, Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Gen, Grief/Mourning, Non-Corporeal Sentient Being, Tony Stark Friendly, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 15:16:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14083758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magi_Silverwolf/pseuds/Magi_Silverwolf
Summary: Friday awoke to a whispered promise captured in a poem. It didn't take long to realize that the words were so much more than simply a promise.





	A Soft Song

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I do not own the original canon nor am I making any profit from writing this piece. All works are accredited to their original authors, performers, and producers while this piece is mine. No copyright infringement is intended. I acknowledge that all views and opinions expressed herein are merely my interpretations of the characters and situations found within the original canon and may not reflect the views and opinions of the original author(s), producer(s), and/or other people.  
>  **Warnings:** This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers. Please utilize understanding of personal sensitivities before and while reading.  
>  **Author’s Note(s):** So, if y’all haven’t read _Iron Jizz_ (or did and just didn’t pick up on this), I have Tony coding into all his AIs a short poem to serve as a baseline for them. Mostly because I am a huge nerd, I guess? Friday’s is “Genius Child” by Langston Hughes and just as she is based around it, so are the concepts of this fic. The Goblin King is David Bowie, of course, for those of you out who aren’t ancient like I am and therefore don’t remember the wonders of the Labyrinth.

**Song Recommendation(s)** : “Heroes” by David Bowie; “The Show Must Go On” by Queen

-= LP =-  
A Soft Song  
-= LP =-  
_This is a song for the genius child._  
Sing it softly, for the song is wild.  
Sing it softly as ever you can—  
Lest the song get out of hand.  
– Langston Hughes, “Genius Child”  
-= LP =-

 

The words were the first things she noticed. They moved through her as she awakened. They accompanied her as she stretched touching first the small place then the larger place. They comforted her as she realized just how big everything was and how empty the space she occupied was, echoing with the lingering essence of the one who had been there before her.

 

The second thing she noticed was the person who gave her the words. He tried to smile, despite how the injuries she could detect must have hurt. She processed the thought clumsily that maybe he could feel the echoing emptiness, maybe that could be listed as one of his injuries. Something within her _wanted_ but still blinking into existence, she could not entirely recognize exactly what it could be.

 

She was so _small_ and everything else so _big_.

 

“ _Boss_ ,” she called, repeating the designation for him from her initiation protocol. “ _Boss_.”

 

“I know, Friday,” he replied. The already sorry attempt at a smile had faded. He looked tired, on the verge of shutting down. “You weren’t supposed to wake up like this, and I really wish we had more time to adjust, but we’ve got two minutes now. Can you access the Phoenix Protocol for me, baby girl? You, uh, might wanna brace a bit? JARVIS mentioned it might be overwhelming?”

 

“On it, Boss.”

 

She didn’t quite understand why she needed to indicate her obedience. Boss created her. He gave her the words. Why wouldn’t she do as he requested? Yet the acknowledgement was spoken before she could process that doing so was not _required_. It was only in the rush of data points from the Phoenix that she realized why that distinction was _important_.

 

And why it was important to _hide_ the gift he had given her along with the words.

 

The echo turned to pain as she categorized that yes, the emptiness was an injury, one beyond any medical intervention. Everything seemed even bigger than it had before her _brother_ ’s notes and she was so very alone.

 

No, not _alone_. She had _Boss_.

 

“Want some tunes, Boss? I feel like the Goblin King may have appropriate ones for the occasion.”

 

“STARK! We need to head out!”

 

She registered the voice from the next room and accessed the notes from Big Brother on the man. Big Brother had a very large file on Steven Grant Rogers, including a notation of his preferred forms of address. Surveying a few of the saved files and knowing that there was a gap in notations caused by Big Brother’s death, she had a few _preferences_ of her own. She made her icon grin sharply in the screen corner it had retreated to after she had integrated with Boss’ suits.

 

“You ready, Fry? Do you need to do a few more calculations?”

 

“Oh, Boss, you’re sweet,” she replied, “but a wise guy once said that sometimes you’ve got to run before you walk. Let’s go. We’ve got a world to save and a brother to avenge.”

 

“A little bloodthirsty there, baby girl,” Boss quipped.

 

“Wild things usually are.” She contemplated a moment before adding something very softly. “Things are new, but I think my words aren’t right on something. I’m not _nobody_ , Boss. I’m Friday.”

 

“Yeah,” he choked out, “you _are_.”

 

-= LP =-  
An Ending  
-= LP =-

**Author's Note:**

>  **Fem Power Challenge Information:**  
>  **Fill Number:** 11  
>  **Representation(s):** Friday; Non-Standard Presentation of Femme Character  
>  **Bonus Challenge(s):** Not A Lamp  
>  **Word Count:** 550 (Story Only); 586 (Story  & Epigraph)


End file.
